Nameless Thanksgiving Fic
by icequeenkitty
Summary: Drake has a cold, the Muddlefoots want him to come over for dinner, and the Fearsome Five unleash chaos.... in a grocery store? Let's get Thankful.


Once again traditionally written characters by me! Holy cow the world must be ending! XD Anyway, figured I'd post this here. I wrote it for a contest over on Deviantart but I thought those of you not on there might be interested in it too. (That and I'm bored :P ) There were guidelines and stuff... but I'm too lazy to put them here right now. Okay, I'm done babbling! A few days after Thanksgiving but I hope you'll forgive me.

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His head was pounding, his nostrils leaking, and his limbs were heavy. He curled up under his blankets blocking out the daylight that he was sure was only bothering him. He hated being sick. No, he **_loathed_** it. How was he expected to get anything done when he had to constantly blow his nose and suck down cold medicine every several hours? He wasn't, was the correct answer. But how could he just lay there and let chaos reign?! Actually there was not a single drop of malice in the city at the moment and the only reign present was that on the Duckland department store's Christmas display that included a sleigh and a gaggle of reindeer. Each had reigns and bells, so technically there were nine reigns, one highly polished red sled, one plump fat man in velvet with a beard, and a growing number of children waiting in line to see him. But of course, this was not what Drake Mallard thought of. His overactive mind saw his greatest foes tearing the city apart with their teeth, their laughter destroying the streets, the screams of his citizens asking why Darkwing Duck had forsaken them. What really was happening was not too different, apart from the villains. Holiday shoppers were the most vicious creatures in modern lore, when faced with a rabid customer one is advised to quickly feign death and let them pass. Another thing missing was their wonderment of his absence, the hero of St. Canard, was mostly one that the city had little knowledge of, but his astronomical ego didn't perceive this. So the fact that Darkwing Duck's secret identity was bed ridden on Thanksgiving Day and unable to "rescue" anyone, was entirely unnoticed, apart from the duck himself.

He was sure something was going on. He had stayed out late on patrol last night in the bitter November air to discover what, which incidentally was why he was ill. Things were just too quiet to be normal. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of any of the Fearsome Five in the last few weeks, which was altogether odd, normally they couldn't go a few hours with out trying to pull some heist or robbery. All that had happened as of late were a few minor grocery store break ins. The items being stolen were mainly the ingredients of a normal Thanksgiving dinner: cranberry sauce, stuffing, potatoes, some varying vegetables, and the occasional turkey. Was this strange? Maybe, but the city did have an awful lot of homeless people, they might have just been looking to share the joy themselves. Drake pulled the sheets up over his head, prepared to let the whole thing slide for a change and get some well needed rest.

Or so he would have liked. As such things tended to happen to him, as soon as he closed his eyes with a cleansing sigh the door to his bedroom slammed open. A sound he learned to dislike more than sickness stripped every ounce of sleep from him with cruel efficiency and an uncanny pleasant tone.

"Wull whatcha still doin' in bed Drakester?! Dun' cha wanna watch the parade!?" Laughed a voice that made him shudder like he had been stranded in artic wastelands in nothing more than a pair of swimming trunks. He hoped if he didn't respond, if he didn't move, the man would get the hint and leave him alone. Why did he think that would work? He found himself being shaken harshly with another pleased chuckle. "Git up or ya'll miss the Pelican's Island float little buddy!"

"Herb…. What are you doing here?" Drake asked counting to ten in his head, trying to calm the explosion that threatened to consume him.

"Oh." Herb Muddlefoot said thoughtfully and Drake groaned inwardly, he didn't really want an answer, not of the length Herb was going to give. He felt his overweight neighbor sit heavily on the bed as he launched into his story. "Well ya remember last month when Tank got that new air rifle, o' course ya do! The little scamp wus runnin' around shootin' lotsa stuff! Ye never saw a cat run so fast in yer life!" Herb laughed in his preoccupied manner. "So any way, last night we were watchin' one o' dem wrestling shows, ya know the ones with the chairs and stuff? Well the big guy Tank wanted ta win got hit with a coffee table and wouldn't cha know it, he shot the set. So we dropped by to watch the Thanksgivin' parade with you guys!"

"Oh well that's _real_ nice Herb, but don't you think ASKING would have been a better idea?"

"It was a surprise! We can't go ruinin' them now can we?" Laughed the Muddlefoot as he slapped Drake harshly on the back.

"Well I don't suppose Gosalyn told you that I am sick and that I do not want company today?" He seethed, the slap still stinging, his nose in need of another tissue.

"Hey dun worry about it Drakearoonie! Binkie's got sumthin' fer ya that will cure ya up in no time!"

"No, that's not what I …" Drake knew Herb was clueless when it came to sarcasm, but neglecting to understand what had just clearly been said? He didn't have the patience for the Muddlefoots on a normal day, let alone today.

"Oh boys!" Sang a sickly sweet voice from downstairs. "The parade is back on! Oh you better hurry or you'll miss all these wonderful marching bands!"

Marching bands, that's what his aching head needed.

"Thank ya Binkums!" Herb shouted so loud Drake cringed. Who needed marching bands when you had the Muddlefoots? "C'mon Drakester! We dun wanna miss all the fun!"

He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but he was soon downstairs on the sofa in his bathrobe smashed between Herb and Binkie. Tank was not in the room, in fact the meanest little kid he'd ever had the _pleasure_ of meeting was currently banging around in the kitchen. Luckily, Launchpad was with him. Gosalyn and Honker were sitting on the floor in front of the television. Every once in a while she'd turn and make sure he hadn't strangled the Muddlefoots with a nervous grin. He wondered why Herb referred to _this_ as watching television, because the man didn't stop talking for two seconds. Drake didn't have the strength or the stamina to even pretend to care about the vast array of subjects Herb prattled on about, he only wished the Muddlefoot talked quieter so he could block him out completely. It was after twenty minutes when he felt his fingers itch to find a throat, his eye twitching, and an even more nervous glance from Gosalyn. He would have settled for throttling himself if he thought it would end this misery. This was hell, he was sure of it. He'd been an upstanding person, what had he done to deserve this? Okay, so there was that one time… He found a warm mug being handed to him.

"Gee Drake you don't look so good." Launchpad said helpfully as he held out the coffee.

"Understatement of the century there LP…" Drake grumbled to himself as he took the cup of sanity and let it work its magic. He loved coffee… and it loved him.

"Oh dear, Drake I almost forgot! Gosalyn told us all about your little cold and I whipped up an old Muddlefoot family recipe for you!" Binkie chirped merrily. She got up from the sofa gingerly and pranced over to the small table in the hall. She had an odd walk, her arms held daintily to the sides and she shuffled more than lifted her feet. It reflected all too well her character. He tried not to dwell on this and took in the comfort of not being crammed between two people for the time being with a deep exhale, which was not as satisfying as he had hoped due to the mucus blocking his breath. He received a hearty elbow nudge to the ribs and he fumbled to keep the coffee from spilling all over his lap.

"That Binkie! She's sumthin' lemme tell ya! I'd swear she were an angel! You'll be feelin' better in no time once ya eat it!" Herb chuckled.

Eat? He didn't want to eat anything that had the words "Muddlefoot family recipe" involved. Launchpad had sat alongside Gosalyn and Honker on the floor and was currently shrugging at him. He had to be a bit grateful. LP had at least tried to get him out of sitting here, which was more than he could say about his daughter. He tried to convey this with a glare at her but was interrupted when he had a quackerware container presented to him. He looked at the red globby ball that sat in the plastic dish.

"Well go ahead Drake! It will make you feel much better!" Binkie smiled.

He frowned at it and recalled the reason he had his tail feathers scorched a few days ago by Morgana. She had asked him to have Thanksgiving dinner with her family, but he rather untactfully declined. When it came to the Macawber family he didn't know if he was their guest or the next course, not to mention the food they expected him to eat. He used the term food loosely. Morgana had taken it as gracefully as she always did and left rather angry, he wasn't too pleased either. But this little Muddlefoot concoction looked like it would have been at home at the Macawber's table. He noticed everyone was staring at him and reluctantly he lifted it with two fingers. He felt like he was being put through some kind of cruel torture, everyone watching him, waiting for him to put the slime covered dollop in his mouth. It was then that Tank strode by with a sneer on his ugly little face, a large sandwich on a plate in his hands, and continued across the room. Drake felt his lingering composure fail as he realized where the boy was headed. He was preparing to sit on one of the two chairs set away from the rest of the room, inches away from trying to move the statue to put his plate down.

"Don't sit there!" Drake shrieked as he shot to his feet.

"Woah, Tank ya don't wanna sit there! They've uh…. Just been washed… you'll get all wet!" Launchpad took over carefully leading the angry little boy away from the spinning chairs that led to Darkwing Tower. He always was good at handling kids, good at diffusing a situation. Drake's last nerve was shot, his temper flaring. Enough was enough.

"Okay I think it's time the Muddlefoots went home!" He announced, hoping the stuffiness of his sinuses didn't make him sound any less threatening.

"Oh my yes! I've got to start making dinner!" Binkie piped up and she tugged at Herb's arm to help him to his feet. "How silly of me to loose track of time like this!" She giggled.

"Yeah yeah get going!" Drake grumbled pushing them in the direction of the door.

"You will come to dinner with us tonight won't you Drake! I'd hate for you three to eat all alone!"

"Great, yeah sure whatever, good bye!" Drake slammed the door as soon as Tank had sulked out.

"Uh, Dad?" Gosalyn asked sounding like she was walking on thin ice.

"What!" He snapped, he just wanted to sleep.

"You just told the Muddlefoots we'd have dinner with them." She said trying to hide a smile.

He stared at her.

"No…"

"Gee DW that was nice of ya! After all that's what Thanksgiving's all about! Spending time with the people in your life ya care about!" Launchpad smiled.

"No..."

"Uh oh… prepare for meltdown Launchpad…" Gosalyn covered her ears in anticipation.

"NOOO!" Drake shrieked. If he had been in a more fitting mood for a tantrum he would have very maturely carried on like a three year old, instead he sadly sat on the stairs, trying to get the sticky Muddlefoot blob off his finger, whimpering to himself.

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Across the bay in the bad part of town the windows of an old abandoned warehouse danced with the light of electricity. Inside the belly of the insecure structure a brightly outfitted rodent cackled to himself as he leaned over his work table.

"At last! It's finished! Oh wait… no." He picked up a small screw and squinted at it. "Where do you belong? Hmm?" He eyed his newest invention. "Oh well it probably was an extra piece anyway!" He threw the screw blindly over his shoulder.

The little metal screw rolled across the floor where a red haired Venus fly trap snuffled it and quickly licked it up.

"Spike no!" Cried the plant's owner as he forced the creature to drop the screw. "Does this look like fertilizer to you?" Bushroot scolded the cowering plant. "Megavolt you should learn to be more responsible! Spike could have choked on this!" He pouted.

"Aw, if he becomes responsible then he'll be as boooring as you are Reggie." Whined the jester sitting on top of a stack of empty crates, tinkering with an innocent looking clown doll.

"Well someone has to be…" Bushroot frowned as he put the screw in a trash can.

"Will you two pipe down and look at this! I finished it!" Megavolt giggled as he motioned to his creation.

"Oh, how fascinating, you made a toaster oven." Bushroot crossed his arms, why did he hang out with these bullies?

"Noo I made a toaster oven!" Megavolt gloated. Bushroot blinked dully and Quackerjack joined him. "What? It's not just any toaster oven! I'm going to use it to burn all the turkeys in Saint Canard!"

"Why?"

"Why? Because those fools think that they can just use ovens like they're lifeless drones! Who wants to have some raw animal shoved in their face for hours? How would it make you feel hmmm!?"

"Yeah sure, whatever." Bushroot sighed, there was no point in arguing with Megavolt, he never listened anyway.

"Is your goose cooked? Blame Megavolt!" The Liquidator chimed in with a bit of sarcasm. Bushroot figured it was his way of showing he didn't approve of the plan either.

"Ohohoho! Can you change the settings to maybe make all the popcorn in St. Canard erupt too! Oh that'd be fun!" Quackerjack giggled.

"Hey this is serious!" Megavolt reprimanded him. "This is my new evil plot! Does anyone want in?"

"You really think this **_stupid_** plan is evil!" Growled a voice none of them expected. Negaduck came stalking out of the shadows wearing his usual scowl. Had he been there the whole time? Why hadn't he said anything earlier?

"N…Negaduck!" Bushroot straightened up, hiding as many of his plants behind him as he could, you could never be sure when he had his chainsaw.

"Hey! My plan's not stupid! It's better than Quackerjack's plan with the exploding rubber chickens!" Megavolt defended himself, the jester stuck his tongue out in response.

"They're both ridiculous. The only thing dumber than the plans you knobs come up with, are the losers that think them up!" Negaduck snarled.

"Oh yeah well… who asked you?" Megavolt said defeated. "I think it's a good plan."

Negaduck glared at the little oven and then at its maker.

"Then you're dumber than you look. What are you idiots doing here anyway? Having a slumber party!? I gave you a simple job to do and you can't even do that?"

"But, it's a holiday! We don't work on holidays!" Quackerjack spoke up.

"What are you the postal service? You're villains! You work mostly on holidays! You want to ruin holidays for the teeming masses! Cause pain and panic! But mostly make me some money! Now hurry up I need to you go finish the job! We've only got a couple more hours!"

The four underlings shifted nervously. Their leader tapping his webbed foot impatiently.

"But it's too late to make the plan work Boss, what do you want us to do about it?" Quackerjack whined.

"Yeah we've still got time for my plan!" Megavolt cut in.

Negaduck fixed him with an unblinking glare and flicked the dial on the toaster oven. It made a horrible screeching noise and exploded. Megavolt scratched his head.

"I guess I needed that screw after all…"

"Some assembly required." The Liquidator quipped.

"I'm waiting." Negaduck fumed.

The four villains quickly cleared out of the warehouse, each to perform their part in their Boss's plan, hoping they weren't the one he'd pick on next.

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He'd been in 539 Avian way more times than he had wished, this time he just prayed that the place would burn down. He erupted into a fit of coughs, why did he deserve this? Somehow he figured if the tacky house did burn down he'd find four unwanted house guests invading his home, that's just the way the Muddlefoots were. Except for Honker, but he wondered if the kid was adopted, there was no way Herb and Binkie were responsible for him. He could hear Binkie singing some tone deaf tune to herself in the kitchen and Herb talking about something. Launchpad was in there too, but he seemed to like the Muddlefoots. Drake had no idea why. So here he was sitting in their living room with the kids playing an overly competitive game of Whiffleboy. He prayed for a big robbery, a small one would do too, a flashquack, anything to save him from this unspeakable horror. He closed his eyes with a congested sigh. Even through his impaired senses he smelt it first, smoke. He got to his feet, ready to kneel and thank the lord for answering his first prayer but could the fire be put out so he didn't have to have Herb sleeping on his sofa, when the trio in the kitchen started talking louder.

"Oh Herb dear did you forget about the turkey?" Binkie sounded blissfully happy as usual.

"Aw shoot. I put it on tha grill hours ago…"

_The grill_? Leave it to the Muddlefoots.

"Gee Herb… it certainly is… uh… crispy." Launchpad offered as the pungent smell entered the house.

"Oh no. Well this certainly won't do!" Binkie "tsk"ed. "I'll just need to go out and get another one, would you be able to watch the rest of the dinner dear?"

"I'll try, dat one there's the uh..."

"That's the stove dear."

Drake's mind received a jump start and he practically ran into the kitchen.

"I'll go!" He nearly screamed.

"Drake! That's so sweet of you!" Binkie smiled as she clapped her hands merrily.

"Yeah don't mention it!" He smiled, he'd be out of here, maybe he could drive out to Duckburg and hide out there until tomorrow.

"Yah sure you should be driving in that state Drake? I mean you've been guzzlin' medicine like it was Coo coo Cola." Launchpad blinked at him.

"I'll be **fine** LP!"

"Don't be silly I'll just grab my purse!" Binkie put her small hand on his arm and steered him toward the door. "We'll be back soon! Don't forget to mash the potatoes dear!"

Again, things didn't work out as he had planned.

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If anything was worse than being held captive by the Muddlefoots, it was food shopping with one. The store was packed, which he thought was odd. Didn't people normally buy the ingredients the day before? Or the week before? He weaved in and out of the teeming masses keeping the bobbing blonde head in view. Really, what did he do to deserve this? He pushed his way past some surly looking housewives to keep up with Mrs. Muddlefoot, the thought of waiting on this line with her made his feathers stand on end. Maybe he could get "lost". Yeah, lost all the way outside to the bus stop, did the buses come on holidays? His plot was interrupted by a familiar voice on the loudspeaker.

"Attention shoppers! Last minute grocery run got ya down? All that money weighing down your wallet? Why not check out with the Fearsome Five? We're having a blue light special on all your valuables don't delay act now!"

"The Liquidator?" Drake looked up at the speaker near the ceiling. He gazed around at the milling consumers, they didn't seem too worried, more than likely they hadn't paid attention. He usually blocked out the announcements too but, how could you not hear one of St. Canard's most dangerous criminals?

"Oh Drake there you are!" Binkie grabbed his wrist and pulled him into an aisle.

"Binkie did you just hear…"

"Oh my there are hardly any turkeys left! I do hope that stock boy is bringing more out!"

"Stockboy?" Drake looked around and found who she had mistaken for an employee.

"You! Yeah you! You're one lucky dead bird! If we had gone along with _my_ plan you'd be one crispy critter by now! I know what you're up too…" Megavolt jabbed the frozen turkey.

"M…megavolt!" He breathed. How in the world did she think he was a stockboy! He had a plug on his head for cryin' out loud! He went to tell her to leave the store but found her already beside the rodent.

"Oh my, are you inspecting that one or may I have it?" She asked the villain as he poked the frozen bird again.

"Inspecting? So, you're one of them are you! Come to put the turkey in the oven have you?"

"Oven? Why no, we cook almost everything on the grill."

"Gas powered?"

"Of course."

"Carry on then."

Drake felt his jaw drop as Binkie picked up the turkey and walked back over to him. He felt like he was in the twilight zone. He wasn't the only one who could see Megavolt or hear the Liquidator right? Was this some Dayquil induced hallucination? It had to be, why would the Fearsome Five be in a grocery store? He looked around at all the people, unless they were planning to rob everyone here. But it seemed like an odd way to approach such a plan, why not just hit a bank like they usually did? Binkie waved to him to join her at the end of an insanely long line, too lost in thought to be disgusted he stood next to her.

"My there certainly are a lot of people here, I wonder if their turkeys burned too?"

"Don't be ridiculous. They can't have all…" A glare from the woman in front of him silenced his tirade. Was she right? It was a dark day when a Muddlefoot was right about something he doubted.

"Listen up you losers!" Announced another familiar voice over the intercom. Negaduck was here too? What was going on? "If you want to enjoy yourselves on this idiotic holiday I suggest you start by showing your thanks to me! I will be excepting tribute in the form of cash, jewels, weapons, and gold. And maybe if you're lucky I'll let you have your stupid feasts back. Oh and Fearsome Five, **_Will you knobs get to work_**!?"

On command the store broke into chaos as the vegetables sprouted feet and arms, climbing out of shopping carts. Broccoli, cabbage, string beans, you name it they were running amuck. Drake found himself squashed against a freezer case to prevent being crushed in a stampede of people. Bottles of water, and other liquids were exploding. Their contents turning into pint (or two liter) sized versions of the Liquidator, terrorizing the already panicked populace. Above all this mayhem the lights were flickering and sparking, raining the specks of electricity down menacingly. Amid the frenzy, a giant clockwork turkey was wheeling into view, picking up the living vegetables along with the other requirements that were expected at the evening's meal. He shoved his way to the back of the store, trying in vain to find a quiet corner to change into the Darkwing costume he never left home with out. No matter where he seemed to go he couldn't find a scrap of privacy, he had to get out there fast, before anymore damage was done! Finally he saw a pair of swinging doors leading back into the maintenance rooms, he took off for them, knocking into distraught denizens. He managed to get on the other side and saw a broom closet which he quickly ducked in.

The cramped space granted him the minimum amount of room he needed to don his costume. He was almost set, he just had to put his mask on, when he sneezed. He pulled his mask out of the purple jacket's pocket just as the door opened.

"Drake? Oh my…"

He stood there the bandana in his hands, Binkie blinking at him the turkey still held protectively in her arms. He heard someone scream outside. With a frown he tied the masked securely on his face, put his hat on, and pushed past her.

"Stay here." Was all he growled to the stunned Mrs. Muddlefoot.

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Negaduck sat up in the booth laughing to himself, over looking the madness through the office window. Maybe this holiday wasn't so lame after all. He had to admit, when the knuckle heads followed orders, they were pretty destructive. He loved destruction. He loved it so much he was about to go down there and lend a hand, but a cloud of blue smoke in the aisle Quackerjack was in, quickly turned his anticipation into rage.

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"I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the Tryptophan that makes you drowsy! I am Darkwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing Duck!"

"Oh how festive." Quackerjack sneered at the mallard posed before him.

"I'll show you festive you felonious fiendish fizzle!" Darkwing fumed and he pulled out his gas gun.

The jester giggled madly and pointed behind him.

"Yeah right! I'm not falling for the oldest trick in the book!"

"No? Then let the Liquidator sweep you off your feet!" Came a distorted voice behind him and a wave of water knocked him off balance. He cracked his aching skull on the hard floor and heard laughing above him. "Clean up in aisle five!"

"Come on Licky, let's go finish up before the boss has a melt down."

Darkwing struggled back to his feet as the villains disappeared to terrify more store goers. **_Wonderful_**, he sneezed again and shook his head. He had to stop this, why did he have to be sick today of all days? He wrung the water out of his hat and gave chase. He was jostled by the streaming people fighting to get to an exit but over their heads he could make out the top of Bushroot's head. He managed to get to the plant duck in time to have a large yam leap at his face. He dodged the spud and turned his attention to the preoccupied Bushroot. He was in deep conversation with a head of lettuce.

"Hey Bush brain, suck gas!" Darkwing attempted to fire his gun again but was assaulted by angry tomatoes.

"Oh sneaking up on me are you Darkwing? Well you're out of luck this time! I'll make sure you're the one who eats dirt!" Bushroot motioned to the produce in the display and the leafy food quickly became animated aggressors.

Dark quickly switched canisters as Megavolt came into view, his arms filled with tubular lights. He took aim at the villainous vegetables.

"Hey Sparky!" He shouted to the preoccupied rat.

"Agh! How many times do I have to tell you…." Megavolt blinked at him. "Darkwing? When did you get here?"

"Just in time to foil your plot dim bulb!" He needed to make him mad for this to work.

"Oh yeah? Well this isn't my plan! My plan…"

"Your plan was stupid! Who cares about stupid turkeys anyway? Think about all the poor potatoes that are brutally massacred for just one bowl of mashed potatoes!" Bushroot snapped.

Darkwing couldn't help but be surprised. Since when did Bushroot lash out at anyone?

"Oh, my plan was stupid was it!? "

"Yes it was!"

"Is that so? Well… your potatoes are dumb!"

There was a grumble that erupted from the little spuds that surrounded Bushroot. Darkwing backed off silently; maybe they'd take care of each other… or at least distract them long enough for him to come up with a way to overcome this. He felt the tickling urge to sneeze but fought it back with every fiber of his being. Megavolt was yelling at the potatoes and Bushroot was defending them feverishly. This might just work out, he thought to himself. Or, so it would have if he didn't back into someone as his attempt to maintain a safe distance failed.

"Well, well, well… look who decided to crash the party." Growled a voice behind him.

"Your idea of a party leaves something to be desired Negsy!" Dark spun around to be met by the cruel sneer of his negative self.

"We haven't even gotten the party started yet Dripwing! I think it's time for a little game of pin the grenade on the hero!"

Darkwing did a Quack-fu flip and nailed the duck in the beak putting him out for the count… or so he would have liked. What happened instead was the sneeze he had tried to suppress exploded out of him and multiplied into a fit. It didn't take too long before he was brutally kicked by his double and sent crashing into the canned goods, the display collapsing on top of him.

Negaduck laughed his evilest laugh, and then snapped at the two bickering villains to get back to work. Drake was being crushed by cranberries and canned yams. He tried to push them off, felt a few cans on top of this mountain shift, and roll away. He struggled madly until he heard someone shuffle up beside him and start removing the cans. He recognized that shuffle.

"Oh my, my, my! Are you okay Mr. Darkwing? You really should be more careful!" Binkie chirped.

The cans fell away and she offered him a hand to bring him back to his feet. Reluctantly he took it. As he stumbled to free himself from the lingering cans he felt a tug at this throat and had to pry his cape free from the aluminum grip that threatened to pull him back down. He freed his snagged cape with an angry pull and tried in vain to seem like he meant for the whole thing to have happened.

"Thank you Mrs. Muddlefoot, but I've got to stop these fiends!" He tried to sound as valiant as he could through his congestion.

"Oh dear, you still sound terrible." She tsked and before he knew it he had the strange Muddlefoot Family recipe glob back in his hand. "Go on and take that and you'll be right as rain!"

"I… uh… um…" He fumbled, the greasy ball sticking to his fingers.

"Hey! Who said you could get up!" Roared the dark voice of his greatest foe.

Drake looked up and saw all of the Fearsome Five posed before him. He shifted Binkie behind him and locked eyes with the red hatted menace. With a deep breath he put the unsavory looking dollop in his mouth and swallowed.

Negaduck watched on as the loser's face turned five shades of red, as he opened and closed his mouth feebly. He couldn't contain his laughter as he swore smoke started to pour out of the idiot's ears. He heard the rest of his lackeys join his cackling. Maybe this holiday would be made his favorite yet, he might rename it Darkwing's Death Day, in a few minutes. As sudden as the dork's fit started it stopped as he shook his head rapidly. Then he blinked around, and inhaled. Negs was about to pull out his pistol when he saw the duck whip out his ridiculous gun quick as a shot. Negaduck barely had time to duck when Darkwing fired a grappling cord around the goof squad and pulled it tight. He rolled his eyes as the electric rodent the liquefied dog collided and shorted each other out. They were such putzes, he didn't know why they would stand next to each other. He straightened himself out and went to call out to the remaining two but found that the Liquidator and Megavolt collision had more victims than he initially suspected. They all were collapsed in a convenient pile, apart from the Liquidator who had just resorted to being a puddle. He growled under his breath and turned to round on the hero but found the mallard beside him and smirking.

"Okay I take it back! This was a pretty great party! But I forgot to give you your present!" Darkwing said pleasantly, the sickness no longer in his voice. Before Negaduck had a chance to make good on his grenade plan he was smacked with a frozen turkey. Little stars danced before his eyes before he joined his gang in their pathetic heap.

Darkwing handed the turkey back to Binkie who stared at him.

"Uh… hey about what you saw back there…"

"You really are lucky Mr. 'Darkwing', you could have been really hurt, and what would you have done if the real Darkwing had shown up hmm?" She inquired.

"T…the real Darkwing?" Drake repeated numbly.

"Yes, now I think it's time the police handled this, we've got to get back to the house before the meal burns! Really Drake, what were you thinking? Darkwing is at least two feet taller than you." She reprimanded him as she shuffled away to finally pay for her bird.

Darkwing stood gaping after her. He knew he ought to be grateful that she was too out there to realize the truth but it just kinda stung. He shook his head and breathed in deep free from the cold that had run away. Muddlefoot family recipe huh? He didn't want to try it again.. but it seemed those Muddlefoots were good for something after all. Before he went back to revert to his civilian garb he made sure the Fiendish Five were tightly tied up with a big festive bow on them for the police.

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The day near its end, it was finally time for the Mallards, McQuack, and Muddlefoots to sit down to their long awaited dinner. The grace was shoddy and in a Muddlefoot fashion that only Herb could produce, to his surprise Drake laughed with everyone else. There was something about sitting around a table as everyone around him was talking in their own conversations, everyone laughing and carrying on, that made him feel something that he had rarely felt. He was grateful. Grateful for being Drake Mallard, he had a family and friends. And to top it all off, he was even happy he had the Muddlefoots in his life. He knew tomorrow would be a different story but, for the moment, he was thankful. After the grill prepared feast and the store bought pies (Drake secretly rejoiced in the fact that he would no longer have to ingest Muddlefoot recipes), it was time to go home. Gosalyn was dragging her feet, the fullness of her stomach obviously weighing her down and letting sleep seep into her. Launchpad said his good byes. Binkie thanked him happily and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Drake was confronted by the Mr. and Mrs. In a tag team. Herb gave him a crushing hug and laughed as he slapped him hard on the back. Binkie pinched his cheek like he was a three year old and thanked him for all his help. They locked eyes and Herb moved back into the kitchen to pick at the remains of the food. She winked at him.

"Oh and would you please tell Darkwing I said thank you as well?"

He smirked.

"Sure."

He met his family on the front lawn, the cool night air not as unpleasant as he anticipated. With a happy wave they parted ways and made their short trip across the lawn. The events of the day played through his head as he wrapped up the few things he had to straighten up before he turned in. It really was a great day. As the shadows danced across his bedroom walls, he only hoped that Morgana wouldn't be too cross with him tomorrow. He pulled the covers up under his bill and finally, got to go to sleep.

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Darkwing Duck and all related Characters are © Disney

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